


Psychotherapy

by Wi1dflower



Category: The Rook (TV 2019)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff, Kidnapping, Multi, Therapy, Training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2020-11-02 05:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20642747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wi1dflower/pseuds/Wi1dflower
Summary: Rescued from the Lugat, Myfanwy, a young EVA is sent to Glengrove and placed under the care of Dr. Gestalt.





	1. Chapter 1

The children disappeared throughout the night. Each stop was brief, lasting only a few minutes before the van started again, and they continued to the next drop-off site. Myfanwy only saw glimpses of their whereabouts when the doors opened, and the EVAs were released from their crates to be delivered to their buyers.

There wasn’t anything particularly discernible about their location. The first child, a boy around the age of ten, had been taken to a warehouse. The sound of the sliding steel doors reverberated through the vacant building and sent chills down Myfanwy’s spine. Next was the girl, no older than thirteen, who had been dragged from the van screaming and forced into a parked car by a roadside ditch. The last child, a boy nearly eighteen, was brought to the docks. Myfanwy had seen the cargo containers before the van doors were slammed shut, and a ship’s horn blared in the distance.

The cries and whimpers of the other children had nearly driven her mad, but now that she was alone in the darkness, she’d give anything to hear them once more.

She lost track of time as she waited for the inevitable. It had been hours since she’d been drugged and placed into her crate. A small part of her was disappointed the sedative had worn off. She was terrified of what awaited her on the other side of those doors.

She held her knees tightly against her chest, her legs aching from being confined for so long. A damp chill settled in the air, and she huffed into her bound hands to keep them warm.

The tires crunched on the ground as they turned onto a gravel road. They came to an abrupt stop a few minutes later.

At the front of the van, the driver and passenger doors opened.

Myfanwy began to tremble at the sound of heavy footsteps rounding the van to open the back doors. A latch turned, and suddenly blinding light spilled into the space. Outside, two parked cars faced her direction with their headlights turned on. Myfanwy blinked rapidly and raised her hands to cover her eyes.

One of the Vultures hoisted himself into the back with a loud grunt. He stalked towards Myfanwy, a gun held firmly in one of his gloved hands. He unlocked her crate and yanked her out roughly by the upper arm.

“No!” she cried, clawing at the man. “Stop!”

He pushed her out of the van, and she fell to her knees on the ground below. Pain shot through her left knee, where she landed on a jagged rock. She gasped into the dirt.

Several men wearing business suits exited the cars in front of her. The second Vulture, a stout man with a scar across his chin, stepped forward to shake hands with one of them.

“Your EVA, sir.”

Myfanwy lay paralyzed on the ground and watched horrified as the men surrounded her on all sides. Her heart raced, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. The men scrutinized her shaking form.

“She better be worth what I paid.” The man who had shaken the Vulture’s hand nodded his head, and one of his associates leaned down to pick her up.

“Don’t touch me!” Myfanwy screamed.

The headlights behind them flickered.

The man continued to advance, and Myfanwy felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She couldn’t fight it any longer. An electric current hummed inside her body, and as soon as his hands made contact with Myfanwy’s bare skin, it sparked. She felt ablaze. The power burst from within her and sent shockwaves through the gathered men. They spasmed briefly before collapsing to the ground.

Myfanwy struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes flickered nervously to each body, waiting for one of them to move. They didn’t. She crawled slowly over to the driver, intending to find the keys to the van, but paused when she didn’t see him breathing.

“Please, no,” she begged, turning his body over.

The Vulture was dead.

A sob ripped through Myfanwy, and she scrambled to the other bodies to see if they suffered the same fate. With each failed attempt at finding a pulse, she felt her sanity slip further away.

She was a murderer.

Myfanwy’s family had been right all along. Her EVA was a curse. After her ability manifested, they screamed their voices hoarse, saying she wasn’t their daughter anymore. They demanded that she leave and never return. And that’s exactly what she did. She ran far away and hid from the world. At least, until the Lugat found her.

The thought of her family had her keeling over onto the ground. Tears dripped from her eyes, wetting the dirt. She held her arms close to her body and cried.

She felt herself drifting. Sleep called to her, but a noise in the distance made her eyes snap open. Several cars sped down the road in her direction, leaving a trail of dust in their wake. She shot to her feet and ran.

Myfanwy forced air into her lungs as she ran faster than she thought her body was capable. A muscle in her leg cramped, but she gritted her teeth and pushed past the pain. She refused to be captured again. Behind her, the cars screeched to a stop, and someone chased after her on foot, a flashlight bobbing with their movement.

“Wait!”

She didn’t turn back.

“Stop! I’m not with the Lugat!”

The voice sounded closer, but Myfanwy didn’t risk turning her head to see how close they really were.

“I’m here to help!”

They were right on her heels.

Myfanwy felt her EVA humming at the surface, but before she could decide her next move, a body tackled her to the ground.

“It’s okay,” the man panted above her. “I’m sorry to be so rough. I didn’t think I’d catch you otherwise.”

“Get off me!”

The man rolled off her body. “Fuck! Right, sorry!”

Myfanwy pulled away, gasping for air. She eyed the man apprehensively. He kept his hands raised as if to make himself look less threatening. Not that he looked all that intimidating anyway. Dressed in an Adidas tracksuit set, the man seemed better equipped for lounging on the sofa and watching telly than trafficking EVAs.

“Who are you?” Myfanwy questioned, still on guard.

The man smiled brightly. “Call me Alex. I’m with the Checquy.”

The Checquy. It didn’t ring any bells.

“We’ve been monitoring the Lugat’s activity in the sale of underage EVAs. It took some time to get a trace on you, but we eventually got it worked out,” he frowned thoughtfully. “Not that it seems you needed our help. Did you do that on your own?”

Myfanwy felt the hysteria rising in her chest. They saw what she did. Any hope she felt at the possibility of being saved quickly died.

She glanced behind Alex. A group of people had formed around the dead bodies. Some crouched down to examine them more closely. Others stood idly and watched Myfanwy with keen interest.

They were far enough away that she could try to run again.

Myfanwy shifted slightly, but Alex’s eyes missed nothing. “Don’t run. Please. Let me help you.”

She didn’t know if it was the softness of his voice or the sadness reflected in his eyes, but she decided, at that moment, to take a chance. She decided to stay.

Alex noticed the change immediately and smiled at Myfanwy as he helped her onto her feet. His hands were warm, and she shivered at the contact. He bent down to pick up the flashlight he’d dropped then led her back to the others.

Myfanwy swayed on her feet, the exhaustion finally catching up to her. She was so incredibly tired. Alex wrapped an arm around her waist and half-carried her to the car. She averted her eyes as they passed the bodies, only seeing a brief flash of someone collecting samples from the soil before Alex opened the backseat door and motioned her inside. He retrieved a knife and freed her hands from the binds. Myfanwy rubbed at the raw flesh. The door shut with a soft click, and Alex walked away to talk to a woman with a clipboard.

Alone in the car, Myfanwy felt her muscles relax. She had been on her own for so long. Her EVA had been the cataclysm of her life. A point of no return. There wasn’t anywhere Myfanwy belonged. But Alex hadn’t looked at her with revulsion. And the others outside didn’t back away from her in fear. For one brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine a future where she could be accepted. A future where she could belong.

Myfanwy’s eyes drifted closed as sleep overcame her.

The car was moving when she awoke. Her eyes fluttered open, and she was mortified to find her head resting on Alex’s shoulder.

He smiled down at her. “Feeling better?”

Myfanwy felt her cheeks flame. She nodded weakly and wiped her hand discreetly across her mouth in case she had drooled. Thankfully, she hadn’t. She adjusted in her seat until her body was pressed tightly against the door, far away from Alex.

“I never did ask your name.”

“Myfanwy.”

Alex mouthed her name then smiled to himself.

“Where are we going?” she asked after a moment.

“Glengrove House.”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a place for EVAs to learn to control their abilities,” Alex explained. “You’ll be safe there.”

Safe.

She hadn’t felt safe in a very long time.

He kept talking, but Myfanwy could barely bring herself to listen. If she could learn to control her EVA, there was a chance she could go home. A chance her family could forgive her. She had made a terrible mistake, but they couldn’t hate her forever. Could they?

Alex trailed off mid-sentence, sensing Myfanwy’s mind was elsewhere. They sat in a comfortable silence, looking out their respective windows as the scenery blurred by. They stopped a couple hours later when Myfanwy’s stomach growled.

They parked in front of a small store, and Alex quickly ran around the car to open her door. She smiled at the kind gesture.

Inside, Myfanwy’s mouth practically watered at the sight of food. She hadn’t eaten since before the Lugat put her in that crate. Alex disappeared to the other side of the store and left her admiring a selection of sweets.

Shit.

The Lugat took all of her possessions when they captured her, including the small amount of money she saved.

Myfanwy sighed and hugged her arms to her chest. She waited for Alex to return and jumped when he suddenly appeared behind her.

He frowned at her empty hands. “Didn’t find anything?”

“I don’t have any money,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

Alex rolled his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips, and grabbed the sweet Myfanwy had been staring at moments ago. He then walked away toward the coolers. “What do you want to drink?”

Myfanwy eyed him warily.

“If you don’t pick something, I will,” he warned, eyes wide with amusement.

The corner of her mouth twitched as she picked up a bottle of water. Alex grinned and gathered a few other provisions before paying upfront. Back in the car, he wordlessly handed the driver one of his bags of crisps. Myfanwy watched curiously as they both seemed to eat simultaneously.

A thought occurred to her. “Am I in trouble?”

Alex choked and looked at her worriedly. “For what?”

Myfanwy took a shaky breath. He was really going to make her say it? She didn’t think she could.

“Why would you be in trouble?”

“I killed—” Myfanwy winced. “I killed those people.”

Alex relaxed in his seat, seemingly unbothered by her admission. “It was self-defense. Better them than you.”

Her vision grew blurry with unshed tears. “I’m a monster.”

Alex’s eyes snapped to her, hard and angry. “No. You’re not. Don’t sympathize with the fucking Vultures. They deserved what you did to them.”

Myfanwy’s heart raced in her chest.

If only he were right. But the Vultures weren’t the only ones her EVA had harmed.

The rest of the journey was silent. She didn’t want to argue with Alex, so she opted for staring out the window. He looked at her occasionally, chewing on his thumbnail as if in deep thought. She was tempted to take his hand and remove it from his mouth.

By late afternoon, they pulled up to a gate, and the driver flashed a badge to a security guard. He looked at Myfanwy suspiciously but didn’t say a word. The gates opened noisily, and they continued up the road to Glengrove.

Myfanwy’s mouth dropped at the sight of it.

It was anything but a house. Glengrove was building. A large and exorbitant building.

Alex watched her closely. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. They parked the car, and she was taken aback by its enormity.

“I’m afraid my presence is needed back at the Checquy,” he sighed. “Will you be alright waiting here by yourself? Someone should be down for you shortly.”

Myfanwy was suddenly struck by the realization she may never see Alex again. A lump formed in her throat, so she settled for nodding her head.

He helped her out of the car, and Myfanwy’s hand shook in his.

“You’ll be okay,” Alex promised.

“Yeah.”

He laughed at her sullen expression. “I’ll be back later tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“I only consult for the Checquy. I work at Glengrove most of the time,” Alex smiled.

Myfanwy’s cheeks heated. “Oh.”

“You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?”

Before she could think of a response, Alex slipped around her and entered the passenger seat. 

And then they were gone.

She watched dejectedly as the car disappeared down the road. After a few moments, once she was certain they weren’t coming back, she turned to face Glengrove and wondered if she had made the right choice.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

This was a mistake.

Myfanwy wished she could go back in time and run while she still had the chance. She spent the last hour touring Glengrove, led by a loquacious staff member who enthusiastically referred to every amenity as “state-of-the-art” and “one-of-a-kind.” He gestured wildly with his hands as he talked, and walked briskly, to the point she had to practically run to keep up.

They started in the training center, and worked their way through classrooms, laboratories, various offices, therapy rooms, archives, the infirmary, the dining hall, and finally the dormitories.

People stopped in the corridors and watched with inquisitive eyes as she passed them by. Girls around Myfanwy’s age covered their mouths with their hands and whispered into each other's ears. Boys smirked and fixated their gaze on her breasts and arse, not even bothering to be discreet about it.

She crossed her arms over her chest and hunched her shoulders, trying to make herself smaller. In a previous life, she might have blushed from the attention and approached them with a flirtatious smile, but all she felt at this moment was the desire to hide away.

At the end of the tour, she was brought to a private office to register as an official resident of Glengrove. The paperwork was endless, and Myfanwy balked at the information they required: family history, school transcripts, criminal and medical records. Information that she didn’t even know how to begin to acquire, given her circumstances.

She started with the basic questions.

Name: Myfanwy Alice Thomas

Age: 17

Sex: Female

Ethnicity: White

But she paused at the line that asked for a description of her EVA. It was deadly. She knew that with painful certainty. And it surged through her body like an electric current, but that was the extent of her knowledge. She feared her power. A shiver ran down her spine at the mere thought of it.

Myfanwy sighed and simply wrote, “unknown.”

The rest of the forms were tedious and mind-numbing, but she eventually completed them with varying degrees of accuracy. On the last document, a contract of sorts, Myfanwy signed her signature, and thus her freedom, away. She twisted in her chair to crack her back, relishing in the feel of her muscles stretching after being seated for so long. Her tour guide smiled broadly and shuffled the papers on the desk before filing them away in a cabinet.

“Hungry?” he asked. “Dinner was an hour ago, but I’m sure we can find you something.”

Myfanwy nodded her head gratefully. She had been too nervous earlier to pay any mind to the ache in her stomach. Life on the run taught her to survive on intermittent meals, so she wasn’t too worried about missing out on dinner.

The guide led her back to the dining hall and Myfanwy was pleased with herself for remembering at least part of the path they took to get there. The sooner she learned to navigate Glengrove, the better. It felt suffocating to not know her way around. To not know the possible escape routes.

They came to a set of double doors, and the guide swung them open theatrically. The room was mostly unoccupied. A few stragglers were dispersed around the tables, picking at the food on their trays with a frown. The air was warmer than it was in the hallway, and Myfanwy’s mouth watered at the faint smell of roast beef and potatoes.

Beside her, the guide’s phone began to ring. He pulled it from his back pocket, his brow furrowing as he read the name on the screen. “I have to take this. Help yourself to whatever food is left. Do you remember the way back to your room?”

Myfanwy nodded her head, her eyes flickering anxiously to the double doors. She wasn’t sure if she really did remember, but didn’t want him to think she was helpless if she said no. The guide gave her a confident smile then raced out of the room.

No one paid her any attention as she filled a tray with the lukewarm food. There wasn’t much left after everyone else had eaten, but she wasn’t going to complain. It had been weeks since she had eaten a proper meal. Or really anything that hadn’t come out of a can. She spooned a helping of meat and vegetables onto the tray, her stomach growling in anticipation. Before she could think twice, she glanced behind her to make sure no one was watching and slipped a dinner roll into her jacket pocket for later. Moving down the line, she added several side dishes to her growing pile of food. She didn’t think she’d actually be able to eat it all, but it gave her comfort to know she had options.

She found a vacant table nearby and began to eat. The roast didn’t taste nearly as appetizing as it smelled, though. It was tough and dry, but she enjoyed every bite, if only because it vaguely reminded her of home. She ate slowly, wanting to savor the experience.

The room emptied around her until the only remaining people were a group of snickering teenagers at one table and a young girl at another.

Behind her, Myfanwy heard one of the double doors open. She assumed it was another resident arriving late for dinner.

She sipped at her water and watched as the girl rose to her feet to leave. Her small hands gripped the tray tightly, but as she stepped forward, her shoelace caught beneath her other foot, and she went tumbling to the ground. The tray smacked against the tile, food spilling everywhere.

The group of teenagers howled in laughter and pointed to the dropped cup, which rolled away to the opposite end of the room.

Myfanwy shot up out of her seat and ran to the now crying little girl. “Hey, it’s okay! Are you hurt?”

The girl shook her head, tears running down her rosy cheeks. She wiped her arm over her eyes and looked warily up at Myfanwy.

A napkin lay on the floor next to the overturned tray, and Myfanwy used it to clean up some scattered peas. The girl tied her shoelace then stood shakily to get more napkins. When she returned, she pressed them to a puddle of spilled milk.

A minute later, everything was cleaned, and she gave Myfanwy the smallest of smiles. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Myfanwy grinned.

The girl picked up her tray and walked away to dispose of it, stopping first to retrieve her cup.

That’s when Myfanwy noticed the woman.

Platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, she stood at the entrance to the dining hall, watching Myfanwy with a soft expression. She wasn’t dressed like the other residents, so Myfanwy assumed she was a member of the faculty. The woman smiled warmly as their eyes met across the room.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

Not knowing what else to do, she returned to her table to clear her own tray. By the time she turned back around, the woman was gone, the door swinging shut behind her. The teenagers watched as Myfanwy walked past them. One of the boys whistled at her, and she forced herself to ignore it, although her clenched hands against the tray gave away her annoyance.

She left the room quickly but found herself lost outside the double doors. The room she had been assigned was located on the third floor, she just didn’t quite remember where to find the lift or even the stairs.

Sighing, she decided she’d take her chances and turned right. It took longer than she expected, but Myfanwy eventually found the lift and made it to her room. She paused outside the door, uncertain whether anyone else would be inside. It was quiet, the only noise she could hear was the sound of music playing from down the hallway. She knocked softly and waited. No one answered, so she slid the keycard into the reader and let herself in.

The room was empty.

Myfanwy felt the tension leave her body at the knowledge she wouldn’t have to share the space. At least not immediately.

Two simple beds were on either side of the room, along with a desk and a chest of drawers. On one side, a stack of clothes was folded on the chest next to a piece of paper. Myfanwy closed the door and removed the roll from her pocket. She placed it on top of the chest and picked up the document. Her eyes flitted over the words, her mouth going dry. It was a schedule for the following day. For every day, she supposed.

The first item on the list was therapy at eight a.m with Dr. Gestalt, followed by group physical training, individualized EVA training, and lessons in weapons and espionage. Myfanwy frowned. This was not the safe haven Alex pitched it to be. All she wanted was to learn to control her EVA so she could go home to her family.

It was late. The sky outside faded from orange to black. A hot shower called to her, and Myfanwy forced herself to leave the relative safety of her room, otherwise risk being caught roaming the halls past curfew if she waited much longer.

She remembered the showers were located at the end of the corridor, but froze in the doorway, realizing she’d have to walk past the group of EVAs blaring music with their door wide open. Taking a deep breath, she rushed down the hallway, ignoring the high pitched scream of someone yelling at her from inside the room.

In the showers, Myfanwy found a cupboard filled with supplies, and she helped herself to a bottle of shampoo and body wash, as well as a couple towels. She chose the shower stall furthest away from the door and turned the water onto the hottest setting. She left her clothes in a pile on the floor then tested the spray with her bare foot. A moan slipped from her lips at the pleasant feeling, and she covered a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. The last thing she wanted was for someone to overhear and assume she was pleasuring herself in the communal showers on her very first day.

After several moments of silence, she was satisfied she was alone in the room. The water was near scalding, but she didn’t mind. She scrubbed her body raw, watching as the remnants of blood and dirt washed down the drain. Her knee still ached where she had fallen in the field, and she took extra care to clean the wound properly.

By the time she finished and exited the showers, wrapped up tightly in a towel, Myfanwy realized she missed curfew. The floor had gone quiet, and the lights were dimmed. She hurried back to her room and listened for the sound of someone coming to reprimand her. No one came, though.

She changed into the clothes given to her, then settled herself in bed. Staring up at the dark ceiling, she felt completely and utterly alone. The bed wasn’t her own. The pillow was too soft and the mattress too firm. It was also too quiet. Out of habit, she turned to the other bed, half-expecting to find her sister staring back at her. But, of course, she wasn’t there.

Myfanwy closed her eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.

The sound of an alarm woke her in the morning. She shot straight up in bed, pressing her hands against her ears to muffle the headache-inducing shrill. It lasted only a minute, then the sound of idle chatter filled the hallways. She groaned, laying back down on the bed to allow herself a few more minutes of rest before getting ready for the day.

Her eyes flickered occasionally to the clock on the wall, and she contemplated how badly she wanted breakfast. It was a quarter past seven, and she figured she needed to allow herself at least twenty minutes to find the room for her first therapy session.

There was also a large part of her that wasn’t ready to face the other EVAs. She didn’t want to allow herself to become close to anyone. Everyone she cared about only ended up getting hurt.

In her semi-sleep state, Myfanwy almost forgot about the bread roll. She could avoid going to the dining hall for at least a few more hours.

The roll was a bit stale, but it was better than going hungry. She threw on some clothes while she ate, keeping track of the time to make sure she wouldn’t be late. Her wet hair had tangled during the night, and realizing she didn’t have a hairbrush, she threaded her fingers through the mess until she looked somewhat presentable.

She made a mental note to ask someone where she could get a few personal items.

The walk to the therapy room was peaceful. Located on the other side of the building, it was far away from the other bustling EVAs. The office was easy enough to find, and Myfanwy suspected she was early since the therapist wasn’t in the room. The door was left open, and she decided there wouldn’t be any harm in waiting inside.

The room was spacious. The morning sun spilled through the expansive windows, giving it an inviting atmosphere. Several chairs and a sofa made up the center of the room, divided by a glass table that probably cost more than Myfanwy made in all her years of babysitting. A large desk took up one corner, and medical textbooks lined a bookshelf on the far wall.

The leather bindings beckoned for her to touch them.

Checking to make sure no one was around, she stepped closer to the shelf and admired the collection. She ran her index finger carefully down one of the spines. Myfanwy was reminded of her father’s study back home, filled beyond capacity with hundreds of books. As a young girl, she discovered her passion for reading in that study. Curled up in a cushioned chair with one of his books, she read out loud to her father, and he watched her with pride.

The memory was bittersweet.

Distracting herself so she wouldn’t cry, Myfanwy moved around the room, taking in the many certificates and awards that hung along the walls. Her new therapist seemed to be well-accomplished.

She turned to sit in one of the chairs, but a picture frame on top of the desk caught her attention. Curiosity got the better of her, and she picked it up for a closer look. There were several people in the image, but her eyes were drawn to the four blonde-haired, blue-eyed individuals standing in the center. She immediately recognized Alex and her heart rate increased at the sight of his bright smile. The man beside him was identical, save for his slicked-back hair and professional attire. To the left was the woman Myfanwy had seen in the dining hall the day before. And to the right, a man she didn’t recognize, but something in his expression was eerily familiar.

She bit her bottom lip as she considered this information.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat behind her, and Myfanwy spun on her heel to find the mystery man standing in the doorway, his eyes trained intently on her.


	3. Chapter 3

The picture frame slipped from Myfanwy’s hands and fell soundlessly to the floor. It bounced off the carpet, landing face down at her feet.

“Shit!” Myfanwy gasped. She quickly bent down to pick it up, praying with every fiber of her being that it didn’t break. “I’m so sorry!”

Turning the frame over carefully in her hands, she breathed a sigh of relief that the glass was still intact. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man step out of the doorway and walk across the room towards her. He came to a stop in front of her, and Myfanwy stared at the shine of his shoes, afraid to look up and see the anger in his expression.

“No worries,” he said kindly.

Myfanwy felt herself relax instantly. The man reached out a hand, and she wordlessly gave him the frame, assuming he wanted to inspect it for damage. He frowned thoughtfully, placing it back on the desk without even looking at it, and watched Myfanwy rise to her feet on her own. She winced, the injury on her knee irritated by the sudden movement.

The man’s eyes widened in alarm. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing,” Myfanwy mumbled.

He gave her a reproachful look, not believing the lie, but didn’t press the issue. “Please, have a seat, Myfanwy.”

She stared at his back as he moved to close the office door. It was strange to hear her name spoken from his lips. The ease with which he pronounced it, whereas so many others struggled to say it without needing to be corrected. His voice was rich, smooth, and the sound sent a thrill through her body.

The door shut quietly, bringing Myfanwy back to the present, and she seated herself in one of the cushioned chairs before she could embarrass herself any further. The man sat opposite her, one leg crossed over the other, and reached inside a briefcase beside his chair. He pulled out a chart and laid it on the table between them.

“My name is Dr. Robert Gestalt—”

“You’re my new shrink?” Myfanwy interrupted.

He looked hurt by the question. “Yes. Is there a problem?”

“No!” she rushed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. But, aren’t you a little young to be a doctor? Like, aren’t all therapists supposed to be old, balding men with glasses and a notepad?”

Robert laughed, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. Yes, I am younger than many of my colleagues, but I assure you I am well qualified.”

Myfanwy nodded, although she still had her doubts.

“Are you familiar with psychotherapy?”

“Not really.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose you’re here to tell me that my EVA is all in my head. It's a manifestation of some undiagnosed mental disorder, and I'll need to be put on a regimen of medications.”

Robert rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Not quite. Psychotherapy is simply a means to treat psychological problems through communication; talking. Anything you say during our sessions is completely confidential. I’m also not a psychiatrist, so I can’t prescribe you any medications.”

“What makes you think I have psychological problems?” Myfanwy retorted.

“I think you’ve experienced trauma,” he said gently. “You were captured and sold by the Lugat. Transported hundreds of miles inside a crate better suited for livestock. You defended yourself, Myfanwy. And it resulted in the death of six people. No one—and I mean no one—faults you for that, but it’s understandable that it may have an effect on you.”

Myfanwy shuddered. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden, and closed her eyes tightly. She tried so hard not to think about the lives she stole. It didn’t matter if it was self-defense, her EVA was responsible for the loss of life. And if it happened once, it could happen again.

“Here.”

She opened her eyes and found Robert leaning over the table, a box of tissues in his hand. She didn’t even realize she was crying. “Thanks.”

Robert sat back in his chair and watched Myfanwy dry her tear-stained cheeks. “I only want to help, Myfanwy. But you have to be willing to accept my help. Can you do that?”

He looked at her so earnestly, so full of hope and optimism. Myfanwy didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Yes,” she replied hoarsely.

Robert smiled, the relief evident in his eyes. “If you’re ready, I’d like to start by getting to know you. Tell me something about yourself. Anything.”

“Didn’t you read my file?” Myfanwy pointed to the chart on the table. “All that information is in there. I spent several hours yesterday filling out all the paperwork.”

“And I spent several hours reading it, but I’d like to hear it from you,” Robert insisted.

Myfanwy was silent. She didn’t know how much she was willing to share. How much she was willing to trust him. She decided on something simple. “I have a sister.”

“What’s her name?”

“Bronwyn,” she gasped. It had been months since she said that name out loud. Not since the night of the incident.

Robert’s brow furrowed at her reaction. “Are you close?”

Her heart raced. “We were.”

“What happened?”

It felt as though all the air the room vanished, and Myfanwy struggled to breathe. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Your EVA?” Robert’s voice was soft, understanding. “Did you hurt Bronwyn with your EVA?”

Myfanwy trembled in her seat, covering her face with her hands as if to block out the mental image forming in her head. She desperately wanted to block out the screaming and the blood. The look of betrayal in her family’s eyes.

“Breathe. You’re safe, Myfanwy,” he urged.

“I didn’t mean to!”

She didn’t know how long she sat there, tears streaming down her face. He watched her sadly and didn’t say a word, letting her experience the catharsis.

“Can you describe your EVA?” Robert asked once she calmed down. He opened her file and flipped to one of the first few pages. “You wrote ‘unknown’ in the paperwork. What you did in that field took extraordinary power. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

Myfanwy flinched. She didn’t know he had been there the night she was found. He knew the violence she was capable of. “I don’t know. I’ve never been able to control it.”

“When did it manifest?”

“Almost a year ago,” she whispered.

Robert drummed his fingers on the armrests of his chair as he tried to work something out in his head. “Where are your parents?”

She looked down at the floor, ashamed. “They told me to leave. So I did.”

As clear as day, she could still see her mum crying over Bronwyn’s lifeless body, screaming for her to go and never come back. Her dad pushing her out of the house and slamming the front door in her face.

The scene played over and over in her mind like a carousel that wouldn’t stop.

She lost focus. Robert tried to steer the conversation away from her sister, but she couldn’t stop thinking about that day.

“I think we’ll stop here for today.”

Myfanwy blinked rapidly as she came out of her stupor. “Am I cured, doctor?”

“We don’t use the word cure in therapy,” Robert corrected. Although there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “But you did well today. I know it was difficult for you to open up. I’d like to see you again on Friday, and we can pick up where we left off.”

He stood from his chair, and Myfanwy quickly threw her tissues into a nearby bin before following him to the door. She reached for the handle at the same time he did, and their hands brushed each other briefly. They both pulled away, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” Myfanwy blushed furiously.

She threw open the door and walked briskly down the hall. As she turned the corner, she risked a glance over her shoulder, and the breath rushed out of her lungs at the sight of Robert leaning in the doorway, staring after her. The hand she touched was cradled firmly against his chest.

Myfanwy didn’t know what it meant.

If it meant anything.

There was still half an hour before she needed to be at group physical training, so she wandered into the courtyard and sat on one of the metal benches. She spectated a group of young EVAs playing football on the field. She watched with mild interest as they teetered back and forth, neither team dominating the other. The coach blew his whistle at the end of the game, and Myfanwy sighed with the knowledge that it was time for her to leave.

She made her way toward the track field and eyed the industrial fence that surrounded the perimeter of Glengrove. She wondered if it was designed to keep people out or in.

Several EVAs were warming up on the field by the time Myfanwy arrived. Some looked at her curiously while others ignored her presence entirely. She kept her head down and stretched her muscles, waiting for someone in authority to give further instruction. Halfway through her routine, a whistle blew behind her back, and she snapped her head in its direction.

It was Alex.

He smiled at her shyly, and Myfanwy waved, happy to see a familiar face. The other EVAs gathered in front of him, their voices trailing off mid-conversation. She moved to stand with the others, but a petite redhead suddenly shoved past her and sauntered up to Alex. Myfanwy watched as the girl shamelessly tried to flirt with him. Even at a distance, she could see he wasn’t interested. His face was impassive, and he gestured repeatedly for her to return to the group.

Myfanwy smirked.

As the girl turned dejectedly away from Alex, their eyes met, and she glowered at Myfanwy for a moment before walking away.

Alex started with a few general announcements then ordered them to begin by running laps around the track. Everyone took off in a mad dash, and Myfanwy felt her competitive side rise to the surface. She loved running. The racing of her heart and the fresh air in her lungs. The feel of the ground moving beneath her feet.

She paced herself, and after a few laps, she was ahead of the others.

Or at least she was until the redhead sidled up to her and stuck her foot in Myfanwy’s lane.

There wasn’t enough time to react, and Myfanwy crashed onto the track, landing hard on her right arm. Pain shot through her body, and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. The girl sprinted ahead, only pausing briefly to smirk over her shoulder. Heavy footfalls approached, and the other EVAs passed her without stopping. Myfanwy waited until the track was clear and slowly rose to her knees, holding her arm close to her body.

Alex appeared at her side, breathless. He knelt to the ground, and his hands reached out as if to touch her, but he pulled back at the last second. “What happened?”

“It was an accident,” Myfanwy grimaced.

He frowned deeply, biting his lower lip. “Can I see?”

She sighed and held her arm out for him to examine. His hands were impossibly gentle, but she yelped out in pain as he tried bending her arm forward.

“Sorry,” Alex murmured softly. “I don’t think it’s broken, but you should probably still go to the infirmary. I can take you—”

“No!” Myfanwy’s cheeks heated. It was embarrassing enough that she fell in front of everyone. She didn’t need to be coddled all the way to the nurse. And she especially didn’t need to give the redhead any more reason to hate her. “I know where it is. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Alex’s brow furrowed. “It’s no trouble.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated. Myfanwy stood shakily on her feet and quickly retreated to the building before he could argue.

Her arm throbbed with each step, and by the time she made it to the infirmary, she was convinced it was the universe’s way of punishing her for what she did to the Vultures.

She deserved far worse.   
  



	4. Chapter 4

The scent of antiseptics hung heavily in the air. It stained every surface in the room: the white-washed walls, the bed linens, the frayed upholstery of the lone, unoccupied visitor’s chair.

Its assault on her senses was overwhelming.

Blinding fluorescent lights bore down on her from above and illuminated the scattering of scrapes and bruises across her skin. She was dressed in a light blue hospital gown, which only accentuated her unnatural pallor. Under the harsh lighting, she examined the changes her body endured during her time on the streets. Dark rings formed around her eyes. Bones jutted out from beneath her skin. Scars littered over her arms and legs.

And that was only the tip of the iceberg.

A battery of tests and examinations revealed she was severely anemic. Lack of proper nutrition resulted in an iron-deficiency that left her often feeling fatigued. The doctor shook his head in disbelief as she described the elderly shopkeeper in Birmingham who sometimes took pity on her and discreetly placed a piece of fruit or a package of nuts into her carrier bag while she wasn’t looking or the librarian in Oxford who insisted on sharing her lunch every time she saw Myfanwy huddled at one of the tables in the back, trying to keep warm from the frigid cold outside.

She stared unblinkingly at a crack in the linoleum as she recounted these experiences. It wasn’t shame that prevented her from meeting his eyes, but rather a sense of detachment. As if she was telling someone else’s story. The story of a lost and lonely little girl.

By the time she finished, the doctor heaved a sigh and ordered an intravenous iron infusion to be administered. She started to protest then thought better of it. It was safe in the infirmary. The staff didn’t sneer or make snide remarks behind her back. They had smiled at her kindly as soon as she stumbled through the double doors, holding her injured arm carefully to her side.

Myfanwy assumed it would be a quick visit. They’d give her an ice pack and some ibuprofen, then send her on her way. But once she identified herself as Glengrove’s newest resident, the nurses at the front desk sprung into action, pulling up her information on the computer and paging the on-call doctors. She was supposed to report to the infirmary immediately after registration, they chastised gently.

“Did you forget?” the older nurse asked.

She stood frozen in front of them. “I didn’t know. No one told me.”

“Elliot,” the younger nurse sighed. “The twit. I love the man, but he’s got the memory of a goldfish.”

“A goldfish with dementia,” the older nurse muttered.

“I’m sorry, love. My husband should have told you. He gave you the tour of Glengrove, yeah? You’d think after six years he would know how to do his bloody job.”

The corner of Myfanwy’s lip turned up, but it quickly fell as footsteps approached from the hallway, and several men in lab coats spilled into the reception area. Bile rose in her throat. Every muscle in her body was tensed, and she fought the instinct to flee. Memories of the Vultures who captured her rushed through her mind. Memories of the men in the field who leered down at her as she lay shivering in the dirt.

But these men didn’t mean her harm.

The doctors explained that to understand her EVA, they needed to assess her health status. A full medical workup was ordered: a physical exam, blood analysis, urinalysis, vision and hearing screenings, and various organ function tests.

They started with an x-ray of her arm. As Alex had predicted, it wasn’t broken, but there was a moderate strain to the muscle in her forearm. They gave her a sling to immobilize her arm along with explicit instructions to wear it for three days and return to the infirmary if it didn’t improve.

She lost track of time as they ran test after test. It was all a blur of blue-gloved hands poking and prodding at her body. At some point, the young nurse from the front desk brought in a tray of food. She placed it carefully on the overbed table, then held her index finger to her lips as she pulled out a chocolate bar from her side pocket. Myfanwy smiled and took the sweet from her outstretched hand.

After the tray had been cleared and the chocolate wrapper stuffed to the bottom of the bin, she sat alone in the room with her left arm hooked up to an IV drip, and listened to the sound of staff conversing softly in the hallway. Myfanwy tried to eavesdrop, anxious for any information that might help her understand her EVA, but their voices were too low. She leaned back against the shapeless pillow and counted the tiles in the ceiling.

It was tedious. Rudimentary. But it passed the time.

An hour later, she was released. The doctor with white hairs sprinkled in his beard promised they’d know the results of her tests in a few days. They would notify her immediately so they could discuss the findings. He clapped his hands together jovially, his expression bright as if they were on the brink of a remarkable discovery.

Besides the Vultures, it was the first time anyone expressed the slightest interest in her EVA. The first time someone thought of it as something to be embraced rather than feared. Myfanwy didn’t quite know what to make of it.

She changed back into her clothes, still reeling from the sudden turn of events. The day had not gone according to plan. Glengrove was meant to be a fresh start. A rare second chance at life. And it had already gone terribly wrong.

Myfanwy pulled out the folded schedule from her back pocket then looked up at the clock on the wall. She missed all but one of her lessons.

Guilt flooded through her at the thought of Alex waiting for her to return to the track field. The image of his worried blue eyes staring after her as she disappeared into the building flashed in her mind. Perhaps she should have let him accompany her to the infirmary after all. Alex was the closest she had to a friend, and if their roles were reversed, she would want to know he was okay.

It had been so long since anyone cared about her well-being. The feeling was almost foreign, but it made her happy nonetheless.

She took a deep breath, mentally bracing herself, then walked out of the room. Only the older nurse was stationed at the front desk as she passed, and she looked up briefly from her computer screen to give Myfanwy a wave and an encouraging smile.

Outside the double doors, she stopped to gather her bearings. There were two options: she could retreat to the safety of her room and wallow in shame and self-pity, or she could attend the last lesson on her schedule. Neither option was entirely appealing.

Myfanwy reminded herself that this was her second chance, her fresh start. At the very least, she needed to try. With a slight nod of her head, she walked to the end of the hall and pressed the call button for the lift. While she waited, she reached into her pocket for the schedule and flattened it against the brick wall.

Art of Deception

Room 204

Eliza Gestalt

She chewed on her bottom lip.

Gestalt. Robert Gestalt. Alex Gestalt. Was Eliza Gestalt their sister? Or wife? Whose wife? She hadn’t noticed a ring on either of their fingers. Not that she was looking.

The lift dinged its arrival, distracting Myfanwy from her musings. She stepped inside and pressed the button for the second floor. Her foot tapped nervously on the ground, the sound echoing throughout the small space. It wasn’t too late to change her mind. She could easily reach out and press the button to the third floor. She could bury herself beneath the covers of her bed and forget the day ever happened. Start again tomorrow.

The doors opened before she could decide.

Mayhem. The first word that popped into Myfanwy’s head as she stepped out of the lift: mayhem. EVAs were everywhere. They leaned against the walls next to the lift. They sat on the floor with their legs stretched out in front of them. They sprinted through the hallways, their laughter trailing after them.

A few looked at Myfanwy curiously as she maneuvered past them, but they quickly lost interest and turned away. Huddled in a corner, a group of young boys whispered excitedly amongst themselves as one of them snapped his fingers, and a flame ignited from his hand.

Myfanwy’s eyes darted around nervously. She waited for someone to rush toward them, discipline them for using their EVA so recklessly. But no one came.

A bell rang suddenly, sharply, and everyone dispersed. They filed into the doors that stretched across the floor, their conversations dying off as they disappeared into their respective rooms. A few doors down, she found room 204.

She spared a moment to smooth down her hair and straighten her clothing, and then she stepped inside. Rows of tables made up half the room, three EVAs seated at each with their backs turned to her. Myfanwy spotted an empty chair at the front of the room, and she made her way toward it with her head held high. She willed herself to exude the confidence that she didn’t feel.

Myfanwy sat next to a lanky boy whose brown eyes blinked tiredly behind thick eyeglasses. He propped his elbow on the table and rested his head on the palm of his hand. She noticed he smelled slightly of cinnamon.

She wanted to ask if there was a shop of some sort where she could acquire some personal items, but the door suddenly opened in the back, and soft murmurs spread throughout the room. She turned in her seat to look as Eliza Gestalt strode to the front, her heels clicking on the tile floor. Her eyes flickered to Myfanwy’s sling, and her brow furrowed in worry.

Myfanwy recognized her immediately from the picture in Robert’s office. Perhaps the four blonde-haired, blue-eyed individuals in the photo were siblings after all. Although it was still possible that she was someone’s wife. But whose?

Eliza stopped in front of the podium, setting a black leather briefcase at her feet. She smiled brightly at the EVAs. “Let’s begin where we left off yesterday. Misdirection. Who can tell me what misdirection is?”

The boy sitting next to Myfanwy shot his hand up into the air. All traces of his earlier exhaustion were gone. His cheeks colored crimson, and his eyes were alive with energy.

Eliza scanned the room, not knowing which raised hand to call on. She turned to the boy beside Myfanwy. “Yes, Tobin?”

“It’s a form of deception. You draw someone’s attention to one thing to distract them from another.”

She nodded. “Correct. Misdirection can be used in many capacities. For example, two years ago in Shanghai, EVAs successfully robbed three banks in one afternoon by diverting attention to an earthquake. One of the EVAs had the ability to control tectonic plate activity. A swipe of his wrist and the entire foundation began to shake. The security systems failed as a result and didn’t register the robberies taking place. The second EVA was able to walk through walls. While everyone else was taking cover and sending frantic messages to their loved ones, the EVA walked straight into those bank vaults and back out again without anyone noticing.”

Eliza’s voice faded into the background.

Myfanwy tried to listen, but her head began to throb. She recalled the doctor’s earlier warning of possible side effects of the iron infusion: headaches, nausea, muscle, and joint pain, shortness of breath, increased heart rate. And she was beginning to feel all of it.

The lesson continued for another hour. Myfanwy desperately wanted to leave, but she didn’t trust her legs to support her. She was vaguely aware of Eliza watching her from the corner of her eye, a frown on her lips. No one else seemed to notice the sheen of sweat on her skin or the shallowness of her breath. It brought Myfanwy a bit of comfort.

She nearly cried when they were finally dismissed.

Tobin leapt from his seat to join Eliza at the podium, a litany of questions falling from his lips. Myfanwy pushed his chair out of the way and hurried out of the room. She thought she heard Eliza calling out her name, but she didn’t have the strength to turn back. At the far end of the hall, she pressed the button for the lift more times than necessary.

The other EVAs moved past her swiftly, carrying on conversations from their own lessons, and making plans for the night. Myfanwy leaned her head against the wall, wishing everyone would just be quiet.

The doors opened a minute later, and she collapsed into a heap inside. The light was painfully bright. Why was it so bright? She blinked at the control panel, searching for the number to her floor.

And then she had a thought.

She hit the button to the top floor.

The lift ascended, and the doors opened to a deafening silence. Myfanwy raised herself slowly from the ground, staring at the darkened hallway in front of her. A light flickered in the distance, revealing that the floor was under construction. The drywall was completely exposed, and plastic crinkled beneath her shoes as she walked. A toolbox was left out, a black and yellow hammer resting precariously on top.

At the top of a set of stairs, she found the door to the rooftop.

Myfanwy’s hand wavered on the handle, expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t. She walked out onto the roof, the cool air blowing against her heated skin. The sun had already set, but streaks of red still stretched across the sky. Birds chirped noisily overhead, flying back to their nests for the night.

She lowered herself to the ground, leaning her body against the rooftop entrance. It was peaceful up there. Calm. Almost otherworldly compared to the chaos downstairs. Myfanwy smiled to herself. It was her own little sanctuary.

Her eyes began to close.

She told herself it would only be for a few minutes. There wasn’t any harm in that. But a few minutes turned into a few hours, and unbeknownst to Myfanwy, she was out past curfew.   
  



	5. Chapter 5

She tried not to think of home.

The trauma of being thrust out of her family was still so fresh, and the memories only caused her immeasurable pain. But little reminders seemed to be everywhere. They were in the smiles of young girls playing in the park with their knees stained green from the grass. In the smell of cinnamon buns, wafting out the doors of a bakery. In the owl plush toy left forgotten on the dirtied floor of the tube.

She was caught off guard each time something so trivial, so mundane brought back memories of her life before her EVA manifested. It was like tearing off the scab of a wound that hadn’t yet healed. Those small reminders of who she used to be—of the life she used to live—were a punishment worse than death.

At least during the day, she was cognizant of it. She could walk in the opposite direction on the street. Turn her head away and pretend it wasn’t real. But she was powerless to stop the memories from creeping back as she slept.

The dreams were as beautiful as they were unsettling. They were brief sometimes—only a flash of her sister blowing out the candles on her birthday cake or her father licking his index finger to turn the page of his book. Other times, the dreams were long and drawn out.

This was one of those times.

The waves lapped at her sun-kissed skin as she stood in the Alboran sea. It was the last day of their holiday in Spain, and they spent the morning building sandcastles that crumbled under the surf and collecting seashells to give as souvenirs to their friends. Their parents watched from their striped beach towels on the shore, laughing as the girls splashed each other in the water.

It was a paradise, unlike anything she had ever experienced.

But, by noon, their parents sighed and insisted that it was time to leave. They had time to stop for lunch at the hotel, then they needed to start packing for their flight later that evening. The girls begged to stay a little bit longer, staring at their parents with their best impression of puppy eyes, and their lips pouted out.

Eventually, their dad broke and suggested that Myfanwy stay behind with Bronwyn while they brought lunch back to the beach. Their mum was reluctant to leave the girls on their own but agreed after Myfanwy reminded her that she had been babysitting for years and that they were at one of the safest resorts in the country.

Myfanwy waited until their parents disappeared into the crowd before telling Bronwyn to stay in the shallows while she swam further out to sea. Bronwyn called out something in her small, quiet voice, but Myfanwy didn’t care enough to stop and listen. It was the most freedom she’d been given since they’d left their house, and she didn’t intend to squander it.

She swam until her toes no longer touched the sandy bottom. Until there was nothing but open water below her. She trod water for a minute, then laid back and let her body float.

A calmness washed over her as she gazed up at the cloudless, crisp blue sky. She was weightless in the water. Unbothered and unburdened by anything.

But a strange sound filled the air. It stood out from the splashing of swimmers, the squeak of inflatables, and the chorus of conversations drifting in the wind. The sound was wrong somehow.

Myfanwy turned her head to find the source of the noise, and her body seized in terror at the sight of Bronwyn’s head, submerging beneath the water a few meters away.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as she swam to her sister’s side and brought her back to the surface.

Bronwyn coughed and sputtered and cried her apology for swimming out so far despite her sister’s warning. She pleaded with Myfanwy not to be upset, not to hate her. Myfanwy held her sister in her arms and shushed her softly. Her own hot tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks as she promised that everything would be okay.

Bronwyn was alive. And that was all that mattered.

Her life changed irrevocably in an instant. One moment, she was weightless in the water, and the next, she was free-falling into the abyss. She was never quite able to reclaim that lost innocence. The naivety that allowed her to navigate through the world carefree and unafraid of the consequences of her actions.

Myfanwy remembered with such startling clarity the experience of floating on her back in the sea without a care in the world, and as her body seemed to sway on some unknown current, she was almost certain she was back in Spain. Back to that idyllic day before everything changed.

But she didn’t feel the sun warm on her skin or smell the salt in the air. She didn’t hear the sound of waves crashing onto the shore or sea birds squawking in the sky. It wasn’t until she heard a strong, steady heartbeat in her ear that she realized she wasn’t in the water after all.

She was being carried.

Myfanwy tried and failed to open her eyes. Tried to move her arms and legs, but her body was like lead. She was helpless to do anything other than listen.

She could hear indistinct yelling in the distance. A woman’s voice echoed through the corridor and carried out onto the roof. She didn’t sound angry though; relieved, rather.

“…found her on the rooftop! I don’t know. Tell the others to call off the search.”

Footsteps approached from the stairwell. “I sent everyone back to bed. O’Doherty's pissed that we woke him up for a false alarm. I think he actually wanted there to be an attack. Can you believe that shit? How is she doing?”

“She’s still unconscious. I’m taking her to the infirmary.” The chest beneath her head rumbled as the man spoke. His voice was smooth and so familiar, but Myfanwy’s head was too muddled to match it to a face.

“Access to the rooftop is restricted to students. How the hell did she even get up here?”

The man’s arms tightened around her as they walked into the building and down the flight of stairs. “Did you see the cigarette butts lying on the ground? The construction crew probably left the fucking door unlocked. Anything could have happened to her up there.”

“I’ll have a word with them in the morning,” the woman said quickly.

Myfanwy’s earlier nausea returned with a vengeance, and her stomach churned with the movement of the man’s steps. She groaned, burrowing her face deeper into his chest, and the smell of woodsy aftershave filled her nose.

It smelled like home.

The man abruptly stopped walking and leaned down to whisper something into her ear. Myfanwy’s eyes fluttered open, and she caught a brief glimpse of his icy blue eyes before the darkness pulled her back under.

The sound of a beeping monitor woke her sometime later. She stared up at the white, tiled ceiling and let it slowly sink in that she was in the infirmary. Why was she back in the infirmary? She remembered leaving the same room hours ago. Had it been hours ago? Panic began to well up in her at the realization that she didn’t know much time had elapsed. It could have been days or weeks or months.

She threw the covers off her body to search for her clothes just as the door to her room was pushed open. The nurse smiled cheerily, seeing that she was awake. “How are you feeling, Myfanwy? You gave us all quite the scare last night.”

Myfanwy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You were found unresponsive on the rooftop,” the nurse explained slowly, as if speaking to a child. “It was nothing serious—side effects of the iron infusion. We kept you under observation as a precaution. Your body just needed to rest after the stress of the last few days.”

The memories began to trickle back: feeling sick in the middle of class, taking the stairs to the roof for some fresh air, piercing blue eyes staring down at her.

“Who found me?” Myfanwy asked quietly.

“Gestalt brought you in,” the nurse shrugged, noncommittally. “It’s lucky there was a curfew check. It would have been terrible if you’d been out there all night. Not to mention, you’re our most exciting find in years, so it would have been a tragedy if we’d lost you. The entire staff spent almost an hour looking for you. Some thought you’d managed to run away.”

Most exciting find.

Myfanwy shuddered at the phrase. It made her feel less than human. Like a specimen to be studied and dissected. It was the same cold, clinical detachment shown to her by both her parents and the Lugat. She wasn’t a person anymore. Just an EVA.

The nurse checked her vitals and made a few notes in her chart before signing her out. Once the door closed behind her, Myfanwy slipped off the bed and set to work dressing in her wrinkled clothes left on the nearby chair. The scent of aftershave hit her nose as soon as she lifted her shirt over her head.

Gestalt.

The nurse didn’t specify which Gestalt, but one of them had carried her to the infirmary. Definitely not Eliza. Alex, perhaps? Did she see curls in the dim light? Or did she see Robert’s facial hair?

Myfanwy tried to remember who had found her, but she only drew a blank. After a while, she decided it didn’t really matter. She’d been at Glengrove less than two days, and she’d already made a spectacle of herself. It was her greatest fear that came to fruition. The previous night was nothing but a mistake that she desperately wanted to forget.

Once she finished getting dressed, she peered outside the door to her room. It was silent, save for the murmured voices at the nurse’s station up ahead. She kept her footsteps light, and her head bowed down as she passed them. They let her leave without saying a word, engrossed in the work in front of them. Myfanwy sighed in relief and navigated her way back to her room.

The lift doors opened to an empty third floor. Myfanwy walked down the long stretch of hallway, bypassing her room completely, and headed straight for the showers. The air was thick with steam, and she nearly lost her footing on the slick floors. She grabbed a handful of supplies from the cupboard, balancing them precariously in her good arm, and turned on the water in the middlemost shower stall.

Myfanwy wanted to stay under the hot spray indefinitely, but the water ran cold after twenty minutes. With a towel wrapped securely around her shoulders, she ran back down the hall with her clothes bundled in one hand and her keycard in the other.

Her room was exactly as she had left it—an unmade bed, barren walls, and a stack of clothes folded neatly on the chest. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. As much as she valued her space, she wasn’t used to having that much of it. There had always been a little sister to invade her privacy and to demand all her secrets.

It felt like she was living the life of a stranger. Myfanwy wanted to go back to her shared room with Bronwyn. To eat around the kitchen table with her parents. To wear all the clothes she bought from her favorite shops. But it didn’t matter how badly she wanted it. She could never go back. And she couldn’t imagine that Glengrove would ever begin to feel like home either.

An alarm blared sharply overhead, startling her from her thoughts. The signal that class was beginning. Or ending.

Myfanwy pulled the scrap of paper from her trousers and scanned the crumpled schedule. She missed all of her morning classes. Again. And there was still an hour before her afternoon session with Teddy Gestalt in Training Room 5.

Another Gestalt.

There was no escaping them.

She sighed and changed into a pair of clean clothes. After another ten minutes of trying to brush the knots out of her hair using only her fingers, she shoved the keycard into her back pocket and ran out the door.

Myfanwy followed the signs on the walls to the library. With the extra time she had to kill before her training session, she thought it might be therapeutic to lose herself amongst the books. If nothing else, it would give her the chance to do some research of her own. There had to be a record somewhere of an EVA similar to hers. She didn’t know if she’d even have access to that kind of information, but it was worth a try.

The library was as spectacular as she remembered it: high ceilings, granite pillars, finely woven carpet with intricate designs. The bookshelves towered above her head, amassing a collection of texts she’d be able to read in a hundred lifetimes. Several tables made up the center of the room, and a few students were already spread out among them.

She roamed the shelves leisurely, taking the time to admire the ornamented spines of the old books. It was a rainbow of deep reds, blinding yellows, and muted blues—more colors than she’d seen in all of Glengrove since she’d arrived.

The shelves stretched across the length of the room, and as she looked around trying to decide where to start with her research, she spotted a lone computer tucked away in the back corner. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, then sprinted over to the small desk.

She held her breath as she pressed the power button, scarcely daring to hope that it would work. But the screen glowed to life a moment later, and a window popped up asking for her credentials.

Did she even have credentials?

A thought occurred to her, and she pulled out the keycard from her pocket. There were a series of numbers at the bottom, and she typed them into the login window. Her fingers trembled over the keyboard, but as soon as she hit enter, it took her to the homepage. Before she could stop herself, she clicked on the internet browser and typed in Bronwyn’s name.

She had to know.

After all those months, she had to know if Bronwyn was dead.

Her heart fluttered as fast a humming bird’s wings. It was the moment of truth.

**Mystery Illness Strikes Sheffield Girl, 13**

Myfanwy read the title of the news article listed at the top of the page with tears in her eyes.

Then, she clicked on it.

She skimmed the first half of the article, skipping past the details of their life in Sheffield, and the befuddlement of Bronwyn’s doctors when she’d first arrived at Royal Hallamshire Hospital. A few words jumped out at her as she read: paralysis, coma, brain hemorrhage. She slowed down as she neared the end of the page, trying to delay reading the inevitable line that Bronwyn didn’t survive.

Myfanwy closed her eyes briefly to collect herself; then, she read the last paragraph.

**She has since made a full recovery and has returned home with her family.**

A guttural noise rose from the back of her throat, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to soften her sobs. The tears trailed down her cheeks, but she made no move to stop them.

Bronwyn was alive.

She was home and alive, and Myfanwy had never felt such immense relief. The lights on the ceiling flickered once, twice, but she was barely aware of it.

Bronwyn was alive. She repeated it like a prayer. A promise to herself that everything would be okay.

Curiosity got the best of her, and she signed into her Facebook account. Myfanwy told herself that she just wanted to see her friends’ faces one last time. To know that they were safe and happy. But as she read the string of comments left on her page, she came to the horrifying realization that nothing could be further from the truth.

_Her parents probably chopped her up and buried her in the woods behind their house._

_The whole Bronwyn getting sick thing was a complete sham. They just wanted to get public sympathy on their side to distract from the fact that they murdered Myfanwy._

_They’re all such fucking liars. Myf didn’t leave to stay with relatives. She never would have left Bron._

_If Myfanwy really is alive, why hasn’t she responded to any of our messages?_

_Bronwyn can fuck off. She hasn’t said a word about her sister’s disappearance. How can she stay silent about this? Myfanwy is dead, and she’s covering it up._

Myfanwy quickly signed off. She couldn’t read those accusations against her family. If the police gave any credence to those claims, her parents could potentially be charged with a crime, and Bronwyn wouldn’t have anyone left.

The bell suddenly rang overhead.

Myfanwy flinched at the noise. She was in no mental state to sit in a classroom and pretend to follow along with some lesson when she was completely unraveling inside. But she also didn’t want to risk drawing more attention to herself if she skipped.

She stood stiffly and followed the other students out of the library. A stocky boy with a scar stretching down the left side of his face smirked at her and whispered something to the girl walking in front of him. She turned around to look at Myfanwy, and they both laughed.

Myfanwy bit her tongue to keep from saying anything. She rushed past them through the halls trying to find Training Room 5 before she was late. As she turned the corner on the second floor, she collided with a girl leaning against the wall, and her books spilled onto the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” Myfanwy said hastily, reaching down to pick up one of the books at her feet. “I wasn’t watching—”

Myfanwy looked up at the girl, and the redhead from the track field glared down at her. She quickly straightened up and dropped the book, so it landed with a soft thud. “Actually, never mind.”

Myfanwy continued down the hall without a backward glance. The last of the students milling around in the hallway stepped into their respective classrooms just as Myfanwy finally found hers. She opened the door, expecting to find rows of desks and chairs like her last classroom, but instead, there was only one.

A man stood at the front with his back to her. His broad shoulders hid from her view of what he was doing with his hands. Myfanwy thought that she might have walked into the wrong room, but as she moved to leave, the man turned around and smiled. “Hello, Myfanwy.”

Blue eyes.

She remembered those blue eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

Myfanwy blinked. “I’m fine.”

Teddy’s smile widened. “You can take a seat.”

“Is this it?” she asked carefully, pulling the chair out from the desk. “I’m your only student?”

“It would be rather difficult to teach you to control your EVA if I had to divide my attention with other students.”

Myfanwy shook her head. “You’re going to teach me to control my EVA?”

“I’m going to try. EVAs are first, and foremost, a weapon. And weapons are this one’s specialty,” Teddy gestured to himself.

Myfanwy didn’t understand what he meant by ‘this one,’ but she was even more bothered by the idea of weaponizing herself.

“I’m not here to teach you to hurt people,” Teddy said as if reading her mind. “My job is simply to teach you how to protect yourself. The world is a dangerous place, and you need to be prepared.”

Myfanwy remembered the terror she felt as the Vultures chased her through the streets. As they injected her with a sedative and locked her inside a crate. If only she had been able to save herself sooner.

“Yeah, okay,” she sighed.

Teddy’s shoulders seemed to relax, and he retrieved a small cage from the front of the room and brought it to her desk. A small, white mouse was nestled into the corner.

“I’d like you to try and use your EVA on this test subject. I only saw the aftermath of your abilities back in the field with the Vultures. This will give me a starting point to understanding your particular EVA.”

Myfanwy winced. “You want me to kill a mouse?”

“I want you to use your EVA,” Teddy said simply.

Myfanwy swallowed thickly and tucked the strands of hair at either side of her face behind her ears. Then, she held her hands out in front of her and tried to summon her EVA to the surface.

Nothing happened.

Myfanwy slumped back in her seat. “I can’t do it.”

Teddy rubbed his hand across his jaw. “The last time you used your EVA, you were in a highly emotional state. Was it the same with your sister?”

Myfanwy’s head snapped to Teddy. “How do you—”

“If we can recreate those conditions—”

It was too much.

Finding out Bronwyn was alive. Reading the terrible things about her parents. Being reminded of the sister she nearly killed, and the Vultures she did.

The lights on the ceiling dimmed to the point there was barely any light left in the room, and Myfanwy’s EVA surged out of her like a bolt of lightning, untamed and unrepentant. The air around her sizzled and crackled with energy.

It was short-lived, though.

A few seconds later, the lights returned to their full brightness, and the hum of electricity in the air dissipated. Myfanwy turned to look at Teddy, and she screamed as his body fell lifelessly to the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

The white of his tailored dress shirt was stained charcoal. The dark, dusty handprints littered across his torso as she frantically searched for a pulse at his wrists and his neck; as she pressed her hands to his chest to feel its rise and fall. But there was no pulse, nor breath.

There was no sign of life at all.

“Please, wake up!” Myfanwy cried, shaking his shoulder.

Teddy’s head rolled to the side, but his eyes remained closed. A tuft of slicked-back hair fell over his forehead, the ends just beginning to curl. She reached out reflexively as if to smooth it back into place when a drop of crimson blood trickled from his nose and smeared down his cheek.

Myfanwy’s body froze on the floor beside him. A voice whispered in the back of her head to go for help, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Paralyzed by fear, she was forced to face what she had done. Forced to face what she had become.

It felt like a thick fog clouded her mind. The only thoughts that were able to cut through it were the memories of Bronwyn. The memories that she fought so hard to forget came flooding back in a raging torrent. She remembered the sheer terror she felt the first time her EVA sparked to life, the self-hatred that consumed her after she’d hurt her sister, the suffering she’d endured from not being able to return home to her family.

It was a nightmare that wouldn’t end. The past was meant to stay in the past, but it had reared its ugly head, and history was repeating itself all over again. She couldn’t let it happen a second time.

She wouldn’t survive it.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Myfanwy pushed herself unsteadily to her feet and ran out of the room, screaming for someone to help her. The words sounded distorted in her ears, but the message was clear enough as people began spilling out of the classrooms. They rushed toward her, eyes wide and mouths moving. All she could do was take them back to Teddy’s unmoving body.

They raced to his side to check if he was still alive while she watched helplessly from the doorway. It was a blur of activity as they shouted instructions at each other. They crowded in a tight circle, blocking her view of him, but she thought she caught a glimpse of someone giving him chest compressions. The tears streamed down her cheeks as she waited for them to say it.

To say that he was dead.

To say that she killed him.

But before they could, a woman with long brown hair that tapered around her waist, wrapped her arms around Myfanwy’s shoulders, and gently coaxed her into the hallway. By her soft, soothing tone, Myfanwy thought she was trying to comfort her. She didn’t want the woman’s sympathy, though. She didn’t deserve it.

They waited outside the room as medical staff finally arrived. Their anxious voices carried out to the corridor, and the woman was eventually called back in. She gave Myfanwy a reassuring squeeze on the arm before she left.

While everyone else was busy with Teddy, she took the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. She didn’t know where she was going, but she couldn’t stay there any longer.

The stairs were right around the corner, and she took them one-by-one until she found herself on the top floor. She retraced her steps through the series of halls under construction, carefully sidestepping sections of flooring that had been torn up. Two men in bright yellow vests were working in one of the rooms, and she tiptoed past them as their backs were turned. The door to the roof was still unlocked, and she stepped outside as a steady rain began to descend over Glengrove.

Myfanwy wrapped her arms around herself as if it was the only thing holding herself together. She felt like she was going to shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment. But this time, there wouldn’t be anyone to put her back together. There was nowhere else for her to run. No one else she could trust.

She had lived in fear of her EVA for almost a year, and she killed the first person who tried to teach her how to control it. There was no path to redemption after what she’d done. Teddy’s death wouldn’t be waved off like the Vultures’. It wouldn’t be forgiven or forgotten. Not this time.

A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, striking the field just beyond the gates.

Myfanwy collapsed against the brick wall and buried her head in her hands. Her eyes burned from crying, but she couldn’t stop the tears no matter how hard she tried.

She was too dangerous for the world. It should have been obvious that no one would be safe around her after she’d hurt her own sister. What was wrong with her that she could hurt those who cared for her? Those who tried to help her?

Thunder rumbled lowly overhead, then cracked like a whip.

Myfanwy lost track of time as she sat up there. The rain soaked through her clothes, chilling her to the bone. She was too afraid to go back into the building, though she knew it was only a matter of time until they found her.

It terrified her to think about what they would do to her. She imagined that it would be far worse than what the Vultures had done. It would undoubtedly be a fate fitting of the crime. Imprisonment. Torture. Death.

But, she was a coward.

Myfanwy rose to her feet and walked over to the ledge that surrounded the roof. Her heart raced in her chest as she lifted her knees onto it, gripping the bricks tightly in her hands to keep herself balanced, then pushed herself to stand. She spread her arms out at her sides like wings and looked down at the courtyard below.

Suddenly, the door was flung open, hitting the wall behind it with a bang. Myfanwy looked over her shoulder at the man frantically scanning the rooftop. His eyes widened in alarm when they landed on her. “What are you doing?” he sputtered.

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

The man approached her cautiously like she was a wild animal that would startle at any sudden movement. He held his hand out to her and waved her forward. “Get down from the ledge, Myfanwy. It’s not safe.”

“I killed him,” she croaked.

“No! No, you didn’t!” the man said, blinking against the rain. “Gestalt is in the infirmary. They’re stable.”

The air rushed from her lungs. “What?”

The man took another step closer to her. “You didn’t kill Gestalt! Knocked them out for a bit, but it’s nothing they’re not used to. Gestalt has faced far worse over the years, I promise.”

Myfanwy’s knees buckled underneath her, but before she could fall, the man leapt towards her and pulled her back onto the roof. “Fucking hell! Are you okay?”

She buried her head into his chest and let the sobs of relief rack through her. The man hesitated a moment before rubbing her back. They stood like that for a while until the door opened and the woman from the hallway poked her head out.

“Merrick? Is everything okay?” she asked worriedly.

He seemed to consider the question and then nodded his head. “I’ve got it handled, Daphne. Go back inside.”

The woman smiled at them sadly before closing the door.

“We should get you back inside, too. I think you need to speak to someone about what almost happened up here.”

Myfanwy pulled away from the man. “No, I want to see Teddy. I need to see that he’s really alive.”

The man studied her face. “I don’t—”

“Please,” Myfanwy begged. “Please, let me see him.”

The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just for a minute, yeah? Then I really think you should speak to one of the resident psychiatrists.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

He kept her within arms reach as he led her through the building. It was like he didn’t trust that she wouldn’t try to run back out onto the rooftop. She didn’t blame him for feeling that way. He didn’t have any reason to believe she was telling the truth.

Several nurses were standing around the infirmary when they arrived. They all turned to look at her as she passed, and she knew once they were out of earshot, they would start talking about her. Or, perhaps continue, talking about her.

The man brought her to a separate unit of the infirmary. They stopped in front of the second-to-last door at the end of the hall, and he opened the door for her to enter. Inside, Teddy lied unconscious on the bed with wires all over his body. He looked paler than the last time she saw him, but even from the doorway, she could see that he was breathing.

“You can go inside if you want. I’ll wait here,” the man offered.

Myfanwy’s shoes squeaked on the floor as she walked further into the room. She tucked a few wet strands of hair behind her ears and lowered herself into the worn-out chair by his bedside. She was tempted to reach out and take his hand, but she knew it wasn’t her place as his student, and she doubted he’d want any physical contact with her after she nearly killed him.

She looked around the small room for any indication of visitors: hung-up coats, magazines left sitting open, cheap bouquets of flowers, or hastily scribbled get-well cards. But there weren’t any.

“This is how it happened with Bronwyn, too. I’ve never told anyone this story, but I think it’s only fair that you be the first.”

Myfanwy took a shuddering breath. “It was the end of summer, and our parents let us throw a small party. We made them stay upstairs while everyone was in the backyard. I’d invited a boy, Rory. It’s stupid now, but I liked him, and I thought something was finally going to happen between us.

I’d gone inside to get a drink, and when I came back out, Rory and Bronwyn were sitting on top of the shed. He had always been friendly with her, so I didn’t think much of it at first, but then he leaned over and kissed her. My thirteen-year-old sister!

It made me so fucking angry. And that’s when my EVA manifested. It was like an electric current shot straight through me. I was so scared, but I didn’t even have time to process it because Bronwyn started convulsing…and she fell off the shed.

Mum and dad ran outside and yelled at everyone to leave. I thought she’d only hit her head from the fall until her eyes started bleeding. My parents knew right away that it was my EVA. They had been watching out of their bedroom window, and they saw everything. They screamed at me to leave, and I thought they were only lashing out because they were scared, but they meant it. They said that they wouldn’t have an EVA for a daughter.

So I ran. And I kept running. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I can’t control it. I’m so sorry.”

Myfanwy wiped the corner of her eye and reached out to hold Teddy’s hand anyway.

“You don’t need to apologize, Myfanwy. It’s my job. I know the risks.”

Myfanwy jumped out of her chair. She turned around to find Robert, Eliza, and Alex standing behind her with warm expressions. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” she squeaked.

They cocked their heads to the side. “Who else was supposed to hear it?”

“Teddy,” she said weakly.

Robert frowned deeply. “Myfanwy, do you know what my EVA is?”

She didn’t have an answer.

“Myfanwy,” Eliza said gently. “I’m sorry. I assumed you knew. I don’t try to hide it as much when I’m here. At the very least, I’d have thought someone would have told you. My EVA, well, it’s—.”

“Mine,” they all said together.

Alex smiled warily. “It’s all me.”

A shiver ran down her spine. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m Gestalt.”

All three pairs of eyes begged for her to understand. They looked at her in the same earnest way, and then she understood. She understood everything. Like the last piece of the puzzle falling into place, it all suddenly made sense. How they all seemed to know things she said to one, but not the others. How they all seemed to know her when they’d only just met. How they were all so strikingly alike.

And it made her feel absolutely sick.

“I have to go,” she gasped.

Myfanwy was careful not to let any part of her touch them as she ran toward the door. She glanced over her shoulder before she turned the corner, and the last thing she saw was them looking back at her sadly.   
  



	7. Chapter 7

The weight of their admission threatened to split her in half. It pressed down on her so forcefully that the air in her lungs rushed out, and it felt as if her ribs would crack and break, before ultimately crumbling to dust. It twisted her stomach in knots to think that she’d bared herself to them. She had shared pieces of herself with them while they had hidden the most significant piece of themselves. The first person she trusted since the manifestation of her EVA wasn’t even a person at all.

They were inexplicably, and simultaneously, four people.

The thoughts swirling in her head distracted her from the crowd of onlookers standing outside Teddy’s room. With her eyes trained on the soles of her shoes, and her hands tucked inside the sleeves of her shirt, she walked as quickly as her legs would carry her to the nearest exit. She tried not to think about the fact that she tasted bile in her throat, or that black spots danced across her field of vision, and instead focused on the feeling of water seeping from her socks and sloshing between her toes.

But she only made it as far as the end of the hallway before the man from the rooftop stepped directly in her path. On either side, he was flanked by two other staff members who looked at her with a mixture of menace and fear. They spread their legs slightly apart and clasped their hands behind their backs, so the muscles in their arms bulged under their white scrubs.

The man on the left curled his upper lip at her in a contemptuous sneer. In the harsh light, the dark hair hanging over his forehead gleamed with unwashed dirt and grease. The bridge of his nose speckled with pale freckles, which might have made him look boyish, if not for the way it bent sharply toward the side. An indisputable sign that he was no stranger to violence. And like a predator in its hunting grounds, his eyes tracked her every movement, and he slowly hunched forward on his heels as if he intended to strike her down.

The man on the right was the most skittish of the three. Beneath the fine red hairs smattering his jaw and neck, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he repeatedly swallowed. His attention darted between the man from the rooftop and Myfanwy, and small beads of sweat began to form at his hairline. Although he seemed uneasy about the impending altercation, by the sheer size of his body—both in height and weight—she knew that he posed the greatest danger of them all.

Immediately, she halted in her steps, stopping only a few short meters away from the assembled men. The inability to see what they had in their hands instantly put her on the defensive, though there was nowhere else for her to run and hide. She was surrounded by nurses who clutched clipboards to their chests and doctors who murmured lowly into each other’s ears. They all observed the scene with a degree of clinical detachment that she’d expect if they were watching an experiment in the laboratory, and not witnessing the preamble to her execution.

Under their scrutiny, she was transported back to the night in the field with the Vultures standing over her. She had never felt so alone in the world, so utterly inconsequential than she did at that moment. It felt like no one would care if she lived or died, and she swore that she would never feel that way again. But, that’s how she felt now.

The man from the rooftop shuffled awkwardly on his feet, and then finally broke the silence. “Myfanwy, this will go much smoother if you cooperate. For your safety, as well as the other EVAs and staff, you’ll need to be placed in isolation until we can make arrangements for a therapist to speak with you.”

Though his tone sounded sympathetic, the tip of a syringe poking out from behind one of the staff member’s back suggested that they weren’t opposed to alternative means of assuring her cooperation.

Acting on instinct more than anything else, she took a small step backward. However, the movement didn’t escape the notice of the men in scrubs, and they suddenly took off like a shot. There was a blur of activity as their shoes scuffled on the tiled floor, and their arms stretched out to restrain her. Within a split second, someone’s hand enclosed around her forearm, their jagged nails biting into her flesh.

Seized by the terror that they meant to sedate her with the same mind-numbing agent the Vultures had given her and throw her into a matching glass box, she struggled to free herself from their unyielding grip. She kicked and clawed and screamed with all the strength she possessed. “Stop! Let go of me!”

The man with the dirty hair pinned her arms to her sides so she couldn’t move, and his breathing turned heavy with the exertion of holding her still. A noise of disapproval reverberated deep in his throat as he squeezed her tighter. “You have to take the cap off the needle, you daft git!”

The larger man puffed out his cheeks in frustration. “I know!”

Myfanwy watched with wide eyes as he pulled off the plastic cap, and then leaned in closer to inject her with the syringe. In one last surge of power, she reared her foot back and landed a blow to the dark-haired man’s shin. He grunted loudly, and his hold slackened enough that she was able to squirm free. She made to run away from them, but lost her footing and fell roughly onto the floor.

“Fuck! You’re going to pay for that!” he hissed.

The man ripped the tranquilizer out of his associate’s hands, then advanced toward her again. She scurried back on the heels of her hands, ignoring the searing pain that splintered its way up her elbows. In her desperation to evade his capture, she nearly missed the familiar stirring of her EVA in the pit of her stomach. It started as a spark that slithered through her body, electrifying every nerve until it tingled at her fingertips. And there, it waited to be unleashed.

Before she could think to warn anyone, his fingers wrapped firmly around her wrist, and he wrenched her arm up to press the needle into her skin. But when he lifted his thumb to push down on the plunger, an infuriated voice pierced through the air.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?!”

The man tore his face away from hers to look over her shoulder, and the dark embers of his eyes flashed with undisguised derision. After a long, tense moment, there was a subtle shift in his expression, and his grasp on her arm loosened infinitesimally.

Myfanwy didn’t hesitate to pull it out of his hand completely. On the brink of releasing her EVA onto the unsuspecting staff, she curled herself into a ball, as if she could use her body as a shield, and counted backward from one hundred, if only to tune out the buzzing in her ears. Her breath came out in shallows gasps, the muscles in her abdomen tightening in anticipation of the inevitable surge of power.

Then, an electric shock shot through her fingers, and for the first time since her EVA manifested, she was able to feel the ebb and flow of the current moving throughout her body. Without even thinking, she latched onto it like it was a tether and retreated into the deepest, darkest part of herself. She traced it back to its source, and with all the determination she could muster, shoved it down until that initial spark died out.

Exhausted, she crumpled onto the floor. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The relief of having tamed her EVA, of having spared the lives of those around her, was nearly palpable.

Once she caught her breath and her heart no longer felt as though it would beat out of her chest, she realized that no one had spoken a word. In fact, they weren’t even looking at her at all. The dark-haired man, as well as the others standing in front of her, stared absently ahead, seemingly unaware of how close they'd come to dying.

Swallowing her fear, she turned in the direction of the illustrious voice. But nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. At the end of the hallway, Robert stood outside the door to Teddy’s room and settled a murderous glare on the man holding the syringe. It was shocking to see his face contorted in such rage when he had been nothing but kind and empathetic during their therapy session. Had his wrath been aimed at her, it would have been enough to make her knees buckle, and her blood turn to ice.

The man from the rooftop rubbed the back of his neck. “You know the protocol, Gestalt. The EVA needs to be—”

Robert smacked his palm against the room window. Shaking his head in disbelief, he took a few long strides to the group gathered around Myfanwy and turned his heated gaze to the man with the red beard. “If you use sedatives to force her compliance, then you’re no better than Vultures. Did you make any effort to take her without relying on tranquilizers?”

No one answered his question.

Robert scoffed. “No, I didn’t think so.” He looked down at Myfanwy on the floor, and the hard edge in his expression softened. Biting the corner of his lip, he stretched out a hand to help her stand up.

A twinge of doubt rooted itself in her mind. While his intentions could be pure, it could also be a ploy to gain her trust, only to punish her as they originally intended. He’d already deceived her once, and there was no reason to think he wouldn’t do it again.

“I’m so sorry. Please, let me help you,” Robert urged softly.

There was a pause as she considered the potential risk. In the end, she decided that it was worth it, and tentatively accepted his offering. Robert hoisted her onto her feet, his hand lingering on hers for a few seconds before letting go. Switching his attention to the others, something unreadable passed between him and the men, and they visibly shrank back.

Finally, the man from the rooftop sighed and motioned for Myfanwy to follow him out of the double doors. At her side, she could feel Robert’s stare boring into her, undoubtedly imploring her to cooperate so they wouldn’t have to use force again. A voice inside of her whispered that she should thank him. After everything she’d done, she was once again indebted to…_Gestalt_. The words were lost to her, though, and then it was too late.

Hushed voices increased in volume as the staff speculated whether she would leave voluntarily or if the sedative was still necessary. Not willing to go through that ordeal all over again, she took a step toward the doors, stopping briefly to look back at Robert. He gave her a reassuring nod and smiled.

Exhaling deeply, she followed the man out of the infirmary. The two staff members in scrubs walked behind her, likely to ensure that she wouldn’t try to run off. It made her anxious not being able to see them. She worried that, away from Robert’s watchful eye, they would stab a tranquilizer straight into her back. Thoughts of all the nefarious things they would do to her while unconscious flitted through her mind, and she neglected to pay attention to her surroundings.

At some point, they stopped in front of a door marked Isolation Room 3, and the man with the red beard scanned the badge clipped onto his breast pocket. Then, the door unlocked with a resounding click. It was an ominous noise that made her body tense. Whatever laid on the other side, a metal slab table with arm and leg restraints, various instruments of torment, or a mad scientist awaiting his next victim, was no longer secured under lock and key.

But the man with the dark hair opened the door to reveal an ordinary room. White padded walls, a small cot pressed into the far corner, and a fluorescent light fixture on the ceiling. Though it was less spacious than the room assigned to her upstairs, and without windows or other amenities, she was grateful to be out of view of the spectators in the infirmary.

Suddenly, all her expectations of being tortured felt incredibly naive.

The man from the rooftop coughed uncomfortably into his hand, then nodded his head for her to enter. While it seemed like an invitation, she knew there was no choice. It was an illusion. A fallacy. The moment she signed her name on those forms, or perhaps further back to the moment Alex tackled her to the ground, she lost her freedom of will. From that point forward, nothing would be in her control again.

Resigned, she stepped across the threshold. The temperature was slightly cooler than in the hallway, and a tremble rippled through her wet clothed body. Once she stood in the center of the room, she turned to look at the men one last time.

“It’s only temporary, Myfanwy,” the man from the rooftop assured. “By morning, we’ll have found someone to take over your treatment. Unfortunately, Gestalt is the only licensed therapist who resides on the estate full-time, and they’re currently indisposed. This late at night, and with the storm raging outside, it’s unlikely that we’ll get anyone out here sooner. I want to stress that what happened today wasn’t your fault. But I wasn’t lying about this being for your safety. And ours.”

There were so many things she wanted to say.

At the top of her list, she wanted to say that it was absolutely her fault. If she had done anything differently, Teddy wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed. She wanted to say that her treatment wasn’t worth risking any other lives. There was no guarantee that she’d be able to stop her EVA the next time. She wanted to say that the only way to keep everyone safe would be to have her stay in isolation indefinitely. Her EVA had already proven itself to be deadly, and she strongly suspected that it hadn’t yet reached its full potential.

She didn’t say any of those things, though. Because it wouldn’t change anything. They were the puppet master manipulating the strings. And there was nothing she could do about it.

“Right. I’ll ask the kitchen staff to make you something to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry. In the meantime, try to get some sleep. You’ll feel better once you’ve had some rest.” The man waited for a response. When he didn’t receive one, he smiled sadly and shut the door between them.

As soon as the lock clicked, she inspected the space more closely. The door was covered in the same padded panels as the walls, blending in so seamlessly that it looked as if it wasn’t even there. Up above, there was a small black surveillance camera, and the red light on it blinked repeatedly. On the floor, there was a stain in the shape of a crescent. The color dulled at the edges, then deepened in the middle. And, on the metal rods of the cot, there were several scratch marks arranged neatly in a single line. 42 tally marks.

She didn’t want to think about what they represented.

The cot dipped under her weight as she sat down. She reached out for the blanket folded at the end of it and felt blistering pain shoot through her injured arm. Adrenaline no longer pumping through her veins, she could feel every ache from her fall in the infirmary. A low whine slipped from her lips at the intensity of it. Sitting up against the wall, she held her arm protectively to her chest and tucked her legs in close.

Then, she waited.

For what, she didn’t quite know.

Nothing else to occupy her mind, she was forced to ruminate over everything that had gone so horribly wrong. There were so many conflicting emotions that she didn’t know how to make sense of them all. There was relief that she hadn’t killed anyone. There was confusion that Gestalt was one person. There was fear of what would happen to her. And there was distrust of the institution she now called home.

Sometime later, a tray of food was brought in by a stout woman with burn scars on her wrists. She placed the tray beside Myfanwy on the cot and gave her a pitying look before walking out of the room. Once the door closed, she glanced down at the steaming bowl of soup and side of bread. She started with the bread, pulling it apart with her fingers. Piece by piece, she ate it without really tasting it. The soup took longer because her hand wouldn't stop shaking. Spoonfuls of the broth spilled back into the bowl and splattered onto her blanket. After she’d finished, she set the tray on the floor and then rolled onto her side to face the wall.

Fatigue made her eyelids heavy. More than anything, she wanted to fall asleep, to forget everything for a few blissful hours, but the lights never turned out. The room was illuminated so brilliantly that no shadows could survive. Myfanwy tried blocking it out with her arm until the pain became unbearable. She tried burying her head into the pillow until it became difficult to breathe. She tried using the blanket with the same result, though the material was too thin to make much of a difference.

For what felt like hours, she tossed and turned on the cot. She wished for someone to take mercy on her and switch off the lights. She willed the storm to kill the power to the building. She waited for sleep deprivation to be enough to pull her under. Of course, none of it worked.

Finally, exhaustion gave way to frustration, and she leapt to her feet. She paced the room, her arms wrapped around her torso, and her eyes locked to the floor. With each revolution, she’d look up at the camera and wonder who was looking back at her. _What did they see? A threat? A scared teenage girl? Both?_

She counted her steps for a while. Somewhere around 750, she lost track and started all over. From wall to wall, it was 15 steps in any direction. She repeated the number over and over like a mantra. It was always 15 steps.

Then, she only counted 10.

Frowning, she walked across the room and arrived at 10 again. She spun on her heels, staring at all four walls accusingly as if they’d suddenly closed in on her. It was an absurd notion, but there was no other way to explain it. Unless she’d been miscounting her steps the whole time. Or, her steps had simply widened. Shaking her head, she returned to her pacing. 10 steps. 10 steps. 10 steps.

5 steps.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her trousers and counted once more. And twice more. And thrice more. Each time, it only took 5 steps.

Somehow, the room was shrinking before her eyes. The walls crept toward her so slyly that it evaded her perception entirely. Terrified, she extended her arms out at her sides to prevent them from moving inward any more. She imagined that they would break every bone in her body until she choked on her own blood. They would steal the last breath of air from her lungs, and watch the life drain from her eyes.

Memories of the cage the Vultures had her in came rushing back. The breathing holes in the glass that weren’t even suitable for animals. The inability to stretch her limbs, so she wasn’t in a fetal position. The panic that they would never let her out.

It was all too much.

Myfanwy collapsed in the center of the room and cried into her knees. The walls were so close that she could feel the panels brushing against her skin. They pressed in on her until she couldn’t move. With the little space she had left, she pounded her fists on the walls and screamed for someone to make it stop.

No one heard her, though.

She was convinced that she would die there. Dehydration. Oxygen deprivation. Restricted blood flow. One of them, or possibly all of them, would claim her life. She tried to prepare herself for it. In her head, she said her final goodbyes to her friends and family. She apologized for all the pain she’d caused. Especially to her sister. And to Gestalt. The two people she’d hurt most in the world. Once she finished, she thought about every happy memory in her life, holding onto the hope that someone still loved her. She could feel Death’s arms reaching for her, but then a soft voice called out her name.

“Myfanwy? Can you hear me?”

A light shone into her eyes, and she blinked harshly against it.

“Pupillary response is normal. And you said no sedatives were administered?”

“None. Gestalt threatened to go to the King if we tried. You know how she is with them. I don’t think they’ve ever heard the word no,” a man replied bitterly.

There was a hum of agreement.

The voices slowly brought her out of the stupor. It was like navigating through a maze, so many times she made a turn only to meet a dead end. But she eventually found the way out. When her vision focused, she was surprised to see an older woman kneeling in front of her with a penlight in her hand. As if sensing the change, the worry lines on her forehead smoothed. “Myfanwy? My name is Dr. Whitwell. How are you feeling?”

Myfanwy didn’t answer the question.

Instead, she swept her eyes over the room that should have been decimated by now. Her stomach sank as she looked at the walls that stood several meters apart. The cot was still nestled into the corner. The crescent-shaped stain was still embedded in the carpet. The camera was still blinking away on the ceiling. Everything was the same as it had been the night before.

_Did she imagine it all?_

“Myfanwy? Are you alright?” Dr. Whitwell asked.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. No one would believe her if she tried to explain the things she’d seen. Fuck, she didn’t even know if she believed herself.

Although Dr. Whitwell looked dubious, she didn’t press the issue. “I’ve been told you had a bit of a difficult time last night,” she stated simply. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like it if you would come upstairs to my office and we can talk about what happened.”

Myfanwy rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. She didn’t remember sleeping, but her head felt muddied as if she’d woken from a deep slumber. If someone told her that she’d been in stasis for years, she wouldn’t even question it. And so, it took several seconds for Dr. Whitwell’s words to register. Then, realizing that she was being given an opportunity to leave, she quickly pushed herself to her feet. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Dr. Whitwell braced a hand against the wall as she made to stand. The joints in her knees popped until she straightened up fully. At the door, she nodded at the dark-skinned man leaning against the frame, and he stepped back to let them through. Myfanwy followed dutifully behind the doctor all the way upstairs, keeping her head low in case anyone reacted negatively to seeing her out of isolation. To her relief, they only passed a couple of EVAs who were too busy reading the pages of some tabloid magazine to pay them any mind. They finally stopped on the fourth floor, and Dr. Whitwell slid a silver key into a locked door.

Inside, she turned on the lights to reveal a modestly sized room. Unlike Gestalt’s office, the furniture had clearly been chosen for comfort rather than fashion. A pale yellow sofa with sea-green pillows took up a large portion of the space. In front of it, a rustic table with coffee rings stains separated the sofa from two-off white club chairs. All along the walls hung acrylic paintings of cascading rivers and snowy mountain tops.

Dr. Whitwell rounded her desk to retrieve a notebook and pen. “Please, sit anywhere you like, Myfanwy. Just give me a moment to collect my materials.”

Myfanwy faltered in her exploration of the office. She had been so eager to get out of isolation that she failed to understand she was supposed to attend therapy. Pressure built in her temples, though she knew a headache wouldn’t save her. It would only lead to a trip back to the infirmary, and then the room with the padded walls. No, she had to go through with it.

Thinking carefully, she lowered herself onto the sofa. It gave her some peace of mind to sit closest to the door, to know that she wasn’t cornered. At least she could still control that much.

Dr. Whitwell sat in the chair opposite her and immediately jotted something down into a leather-bound notebook. Lowering her pen, she nodded at Myfanwy. “Can you tell me a little about what happened yesterday?”

Myfanwy wrung her hands in her lap. “I lost control of my EVA.”

Dr. Whitwell shook her head. “No. I’m well aware of what happened with Gestalt. There’s no reason for you to blame yourself, Myfanwy. Believe it or not, it’s a rather common occurrence at Glengrove. The EVAs who come here don’t always know how to control their powers. It’s only to be expected if they manifest later in life. The staff is well aware of the risks. No, what I want to discuss is the events on the roof after you lost control of your EVA.”

Myfanwy let out a shuddering breath. “I was just so scared. I thought…I was afraid of what would happen to me if I’d killed him.”

“What did you think would happen to you?”

It felt too dangerous to say the words aloud. Best-case scenario, she’d sound completely unhinged. The doctor would laugh in her face and suggest that she had an overactive imagination. Worst-case scenario, she’d be told that she was right all along. The doctor would listen as she shared her greatest fears, and then use them against her later on.

Dr. Whitwell leaned forward in the chair. “Let’s try something else. When you use your EVA, how do you feel? For some EVAs, it can be almost euphoric. The rush of adrenaline, the sense of power. For others, it can be a traumatizing experience. One that causes them significant stress and anxiety in their daily lives. As I’m sure you know, no two EVAs are alike. And so, there’s no right or wrong answer here. I'm just wondering where on the spectrum you lie.”

“I hate it,” Myfanwy said vehemently. “I hate what it’s made me become. I hate what it’s made me do to people. I hate what it’s done to my life.” She could feel anger bubbling up inside of her, and she fought to keep the emotion at bay. It was easier said than done.

A strand of grey hair fell loose from Dr. Whitwell’s bun, and she tucked it back into place. Before she continued, she licked her cracked, dry lips. “Myfanwy, I’ve read Dr. Gestalt’s notes from your last session. I understand that you’ve had a difficult time since your EVA manifested last year. It’s a wonder that you’ve managed to survive on your own for so long. But it’s also important to look forward to the future. There are people at Glengrove who want to help you succeed. We can teach you to control your EVA. Never again will you have to go hungry or struggle to find shelter or have to run from Vultures. This house is a community of people just like you. And they can be your family if you’re willing to accept them as such.”

That was the precise moment that she lost all interest in therapy. There was no substitute for the home or the family she left behind. Nor was there any chance that she would try to replace them. For a moment, she almost allowed herself to believe that Dr. Whitwell was different. But she was the same as everyone else. It was yet another attempt to manipulate her, to conform her to their standards.

Though she was fuming on the inside, she forced herself to smile.

For the rest of the hour, she put on the performance of her life. She pretended that there was nowhere else she’d rather be. She lied through her teeth so many times that she lost track, all in the hopes that Dr. Whitwell wouldn’t send her back to isolation. And by the end of the session, her efforts were rewarded.

Myfanwy was allowed to return to her room on two conditions. First, she had to attend therapy every day. Dr. Whitwell would oversee her progress until further notice, and if needed, additional sessions would be required throughout the day. Second, a staff member would be assigned to shadow Myfanwy outside the office until Dr. Whitwell felt confident that she was no longer a danger to herself. She agreed that the isolation room had caused more harm than good, and it would only jeopardize her treatment to send her back.

She agreed easily to the terms.

At the end of the hour, she walked out of the office, feeling simultaneously free and chained. Too tired to take the stairs, she turned down the long stretch of hallway and pressed the call button to the lift. While she waited, she rested her head against the brick wall and listened to the electric hum as it approached.

It felt like an eternity before the doors whooshed open, and in her hurry to step inside, she nearly collided with the body exiting it. Myfanwy jumped back, an apology already on her lips. But when she looked up, the last person she expected to see was staring down at her.

“Good morning, Myfanwy,” Teddy greeted.

Her voice died in her throat. The hairs at the nape of her neck stood up at the sight of him. He looked as alive as he had in the classroom the day before. His skin had returned to its normal color, his hair was once again expertly styled, and his eyes were bright with excitement. He’d changed out of the hospital gown and wore a tailored suit more befitting a business environment than a house full of children.

The longer they looked at each other, the more the corner of Teddy’s upturned lip fell. Nodding to himself, he maneuvered around her so she could step into the lift. She walked backward into it, feeling her way with her hands, and then hit the button to her floor. There was no way to be sure that he wasn’t another trick of the mind, and she didn’t dare take her eyes off of him. It was eerily silent, neither one of them willing to be the first to break the spell. And as the doors closed, Teddy’s smile vanished entirely.


End file.
